


Best Laid Plans

by SGDiva



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU with canon twist, Gen, Kid-fic, Little Daniel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SGDiva/pseuds/SGDiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When police officer Jack O‘Neill meets Daniel Jackson, a seven year old boy who has just lost his parents and is struggling to cope with the loss and grief, he finds himself oddly connected to the little boy who, in return, has opened his heart for him, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annejackdanny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annejackdanny/gifts).



> This was written as a birthday present for Annejackdanny. It was meant to be a 'little something' that growed and growed!  
> Anne beta'd it for me after the fact and then told me to go ahead and post it. It's Little Danny AU with a Canon Twist (you'll get what I mean). There are pics that go with this story and the image heavy version is available at http://home.germany.net/coolpool/SGDivaLDBestLaidPlans.html where Anne kindly hosts all my stories.
> 
> I am a Brit so have no knowledge of US fostering and adoption, so please treat all references to that as artistic license.

It wasn’t the sound of shouting across the concourse that garnered Officer Jack O’Neill’s interest. It wasn’t the fact that it was Arabic – Denver was an International Airport after all. It wasn’t even that the words being screamed at top volume were the kind of gutter language he had only heard in the depths of a POW camp a lifetime ago, when he'd worn desert camo and carried an assault rifle rather than a Glock 9 mm and the dark blue serge of a police officer.

No, it was the fact that the, frankly, filthy language was coming from the mouth of a small, blond boy who was hurtling towards him at great speed, not looking where he was going and screaming abuse over his shoulder at a rather harried looking woman who was trailing a long way behind.

Jack went into a crouch and held out an arm, bringing the child shaped bullet to a safe if somewhat abrupt halt.

“Hey, hey, buddy.” Jack murmured gently to the squirming child. “I don’t know what she’s done, but I don’t think she looks at all like a camel’s a…behind.”

Jack’s words bought the little boy up short and he turned huge blue eyes on Jack’s face. It was all Jack could do not to gasp out loud. The boy seemed to be only four or five years old and yet the look in those eyes was ancient and the sadness in them was almost overwhelming. There was a moment of connection Jack felt right to his bones; as if a thread of…something connected them together.

As quickly as it arrived the moment was gone and the boy began ranting again, only this time quieter if not less vehement. 

_//Her mother was a goat and her father was the goatherd//_ he spat and Jack found it difficult not to laugh. As it was, his mouth gave a twitch that the boy didn’t miss and he gave a cheeky little smile back.

 _//I’m Jack. What’s your name, son?//_ Jack asked and let a grin get out when he saw the look of surprise, and what Jack could only call relief, flash across the little boy’s face.

_//Daniel. Daniel Jackson.//_

_//How old are you?//_

Daniel looked over his shoulder at the woman who was rapidly approaching them and Jack felt his little body tense and begin to tremble.

 _//I’m seven, but they think I’m much younger//_ he replied and then began struggling to get away as the woman reached their position.

“I’m so sorry, Officer,” she began, her voice so strident it made Jack wince. “We were here to meet his grandfather and then…” She suddenly seemed to realize Jack was not someone she should be spouting confidential information to despite his status as a police officer. “Hmm…yes… well…anyway, thank you for stopping him. He’s very fast and given his emotional and psychological state he could have been in serious danger.”

_//May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your tent, you useless piece of camel shit//_

Jack couldn’t help the snort of laughter that got past his lips and he covered it by rubbing his hand across his face. He tried to frown at Daniel, but the kid was too intent on throwing every insult he could at the oblivious woman, who had no idea of the vitriol the little boy was piling on her head.

_//Take your saggy old camel ass and ride to the next oasis before the water here goes sour//_

Jack scooped up the agitated child into his arms and stood, finding himself looking down on the rotund woman who was no more than five feet tall.

“Have you got some ID, ma’am.” Jack’s tone was polite but no-nonsense. He wasn’t going to hand the child over on the say-so of an unknown female, no matter how harmless she looked. He saw an expression flicker across the young boy’s face that looked like relief and he burrowed a little deeper into Jack’s encircling arms. Jack found he liked the feeling very much.

“Oh, well yes, of course,” the woman blustered as she dug into her voluminous purse to pull out an official looking ID card identifying her as Marion Hogarth, Denver Adoption Alliance, Family Officer.

“Thank you, Ms Hogarth.” Jack looked down at Daniel who was trying hard to make himself smaller, pressing more deeply into the safety of Jack’s arms. “Are you flying out today?”

“Oh, no. We were here to meet a family member of Daniel’s, but there was a message waiting when we got here to say that he won’t be coming.”

Jack frowned at the implication. “Flight delay,” he asked hopefully.

“No.” Ms Hogarth replied regretfully and looked over at Daniel. “He’s not coming at all and I suppose with a child this damaged we can’t blame him. Despite the blood ties, a man, let alone one of his age, bringing up a child alone is not really optimal.”

Jack frowned again, more deeply this time, concerned at how freely the woman was discussing Daniel in front of the child. Surely there were gentler ways of telling him that his own flesh and blood didn’t want him. He felt a little tremor going through the boy’s body and knew the information was hitting home. Daniel’s face, however, remained the same, stoic and stormy, and Jack wondered what had happened to make a small boy be this brave.

Marion saw Jack’s frown and patted his hand in reassurance. “It’s alright, he can’t understand me. He doesn’t speak a word of English, doesn’t understand when anyone asks him a question. We’ve taken to letting him show us what he wants.” She sighed deeply as she looked at Daniel who was boring holes into her with his glare. Jack could feel the little boy working himself up for another rant and so the officer squeezed him gently. 

“He has these tantrums in that heathen language, but so far we haven’t found anyone he’s willing to talk to. We’ve bought in several translators, but he refuses to speak to them.” She looked quickly at her watch. “Oh Lord, look at the time. I have another meeting to go to and I have to get Daniel back to the group home before the evening meal.” She held out her arms and Jack reluctantly began to loosen his hold on the boy. 

Jack had never been a father; had never been married. He’d had a long and illustrious career with the Air Force until an injury finally barred him from flying. He hadn’t wanted to face an eternity behind a desk so he’d decided to retire and become a police officer. He’d been on the wrong side of the age limit, but glowing references from his CO and his status as a highly decorated Colonel had shoe horned him in. He liked the work and could see himself doing the job until mandatory retirement. So the sudden feeling of connection; of the need to protect and nurture the little boy in his arms was a huge surprise that threatened to take his legs out from under him. 

Daniel’s fingers were clutching into the rough weave of his uniform sleeve and Jack knew he’d have to prize the child off. Given what he’d just heard about Daniel's circumstances he was loathe to add to the little boy’s emotional burden. The sensible, responsible part of his brain wanted to tell Ms Hogarth that Daniel could, in fact, understand every word spoken to him and, in all probability, could speak English as well as either of them. But there was something niggling at him; something that pushed him into silence. Perhaps this was the only bit of power Daniel had left in his little life. Jack didn’t know his whole story, but if the only blood relative he had was his absent grandfather then it was obvious that his parents had died. If that was the case then his life had been filled with tragedy and he deserved a little bit of control.

 _//I think calling her a camel’s ass is really unfair to camels//_ Jack whispered in the little boy's ear. Daniel hid the giggle that bubbled from his lips against Jack’s chest and Jack felt a surge of joy that he’d made that sound happen.

 _//Go with her, you know you have to//_ Jack continued. _//It’ll be alright, I promise//_

Jack knew it was a promise he’d be hard pressed to keep, but he felt he wanted to give Daniel a little hope in a hopeless situation. Daniel gave a tiny nod and then wiggled down to the ground, holding on to Jack until the very last second, as if he was gaining the strength he needed from the touch. Finally he allowed Jack to place him next to Ms Hogarth, who grasped him around the wrist in a gentle but unrelenting grip.

“What did you say to him, Officer…?” the older woman asked, her face soft with wonder. 

“O’Neill,” Jack replied in answer to her query.

“Officer O’Neill. What did you say? He hasn’t responded to anyone since he came to us.”

“I just told him to be a good boy,” Jack lied easily and saw the look of relief on Daniel’s face when he realized Jack wasn’t going to give away his secret. “I picked up a little of the language when I was stationed in the Middle East.” he explained.

Giving him a speculative look Marion once again rooted around in her purse and then triumphantly pulled out a business card. “This is the number for the Children’s Center where Daniel is placed. If you have any time at all to come to talk to him…” She looked at Jack pleadingly. “If we could just get some idea of what is going on in that mixed up little mind of his…”

“Well, Ms Hogarth,” Jack began apologetically, “I’m not sure what…” Then Jack saw the look of utter hope that had lit Daniel’s face at her suggestion begin to fade to a resigned stillness that should never have been an expression on a seven year old's face.

“… If you think it would help.” He found himself saying and was rewarded by a brilliant smile that reminded Jack of the sun bursting between the clouds at 15,000 feet. He felt exhilarated by it; energized in a way he hadn’t been since he’d stopped flying. 

“Oh that’s wonderful,” the social worker gushed. “Just ring the number and let them know when you are coming so they can make sure Daniel is available to see you. Thank you, Mr O’Neill.” With a little tug to Daniel’s arm she turned on her heel and began to walk away. 

Something in Jack’s chest began to hurt and he rubbed distractedly at his sternum, his gaze never leaving the slight little figure, whose huge blue eyes were still firmly fixed on him even as Ms Hogarth led him away.

Finally, just before they turned the corner and were out of sight, Jack heard the clear tones of a little voice slice its way above the hubbub of the concourse around him, calling out to him.

“Assalamu Alaikom warahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu, Jack.”

“Yeah, kid.” Jack murmured under his breath. “Peace be upon you and Allah’s mercy and blessings, too.”

~~oOo~~

Jack woke at 3 am in a tangle of wet sheets, his breath caught in his chest as he fought the last remnants of the nightmare away. It wasn’t the usual parade of images he suffered at night; his Iraqi prison guard, the bloodied bodies of his comrades, the zip and whine of sniper fire. This time it was a dream he hadn’t had for almost two years and it didn’t take a psychology degree to work out why it had reared its ugly head this night.

_Only two months out of training, Jack was called to a domestic shooting incident. He arrived on scene to find ambulances and other units on site, but no one going near the house. The Detective in charge grabbed him as soon as he arrived._

_“You O’Neill?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Detective Sanders,” he introduced himself. “There’s been a fatal accidental shooting; a child.”_

_Jack winced. It was every cop’s nightmare to be called to the death of a kid._

_“The father is refusing to let us in. He has the weapon in the house and is threatening to use it if we try and get close.”_

_Jack looked confused. As a colonel in the Air Force, he was very experienced in this kind of situation, but here he was just a rookie cop and he couldn’t work out why the detective had singled him out._

_“He’s in the service and says he knows you; asked for you by name in fact.”_

_“Someone I served with?” Jack’s heart sank into his boots. To be on a call like this was bad enough, but to know the parents of the victim..._

_“Major Louis Ferreti. Says he was in the Middle East with you.”_

_Jack scowled. To say they were in the Middle East together was an understatement. Lou Ferreti had been in Jack’s unit, although not in the team that was captured along with Jack. Lou was one of the first people Jack had seen after he’d dragged himself across the desert for ten days. He’d sat and held Jack until the evac vehicle had reached them and Jack had been forever grateful for the support and friendship._

_Jack shook himself out of the memory and turned to the detective. “Do we have him on the phone?”_

_The detective nodded and handed him a cell. “Just press one.”_

_Jack turned and pressed the numeral. The phone was answered after the first ring and Jack heard a strained voice bark out “Ferreti.”_

_“Lou, this is Jack.”_

_The sound that came down the line could only be described as soul ripping._

_“Oh, god, oh, god, Jack. It’s Charlie, he’s gone, Jack. He blew his head away with my service piece. Oh God…fucking god.” In the background he could hear a woman sobbing and knew it had to be Lou’s wife, Sara._

_Jack swallowed hard, fighting with his own emotions to keep his voice quiet and calm. He dug down and found his colonel voice; the one that exuded cool authority and brooked no argument from the men he commanded. “Understood, Major. I’ve received your report. It’s safe to stand down now. I’m coming in. Do you copy, Ferreti? Hold your fire.”_

_“Yes, sir.” Ferreti’s response was tremulous but certain and Jack breathed a small sigh of relief. The man’s training was winning through the horror and grief and Jack felt sure that this whole episode could be brought to a close without risking anyone else._

_Jack turned to the detective to find the man looking at him with a fair amount of interest and awe. “Do you want a vest?” Sanders asked._

_“No need,” Jack replied. Lou wouldn’t shoot now, especially if Jack was the first face he saw._

_After that the whole thing was a muddy swirl of scenes; stepping through the door to find Lou on the floor, slick with the blood of the little blond haired boy in his arms, his lifeless body flopping as his distraught father rocked him hopelessly; the ravaged grief on Sara’s face; the service weapon, safety still off, lying on the floor at Lou’s feet; the overwhelming feeling of gratitude that Jack would never suffer the pain that these parents were enduring._

Lou had never recovered and had been invalided out of the service. Jack had stayed in touch through the funeral, the subsequent divorce and the early morning drunken calls. Then one day the contact had stopped and, although he’d looked, Jack never found where Lou had gone. There was a rumor that he’d been called back into active service but, given that the man plainly had a death wish, Jack doubted anyone would risk him losing it while on a mission.

Tonight the face of little Charlie had been overlaid with that of Daniel and the horror and grief he’d felt in the dream clung to him, burning into his heart like acid; etching pain there he felt would never go away. Jack was overwhelmed by the short contact he’d had with the lost and angry little boy and how it affected him. Something about Daniel called to Jack so deeply he felt unable to brush it off. This wasn’t just an emotional response to the child’s predicament; Jack had no background information, no real knowledge of why Daniel had come to be in a private group home. But he wanted to know. Right to the depths of his soul he wanted to know and understand Daniel’s story and there was only one way to do that.

With a sigh Jack rolled out of the clammy sheets and padded to the bathroom. Turning the shower on to heat up he examined himself in the mirror over the sink. He didn’t know what he could offer the little boy other than someone to talk to, but it seemed they had made some kind of connection and if there was nothing else Jack could do then that would have to be enough, at least until they found Daniel a family who could love him. Jack was surprised at the jolt of pain that ripped through him at the thought and he reprimanded himself. It was what the kid deserved, but in the meantime perhaps Jack could be his…his…Uncle Jack. Jack nodded at himself in the mirror and, as he stripped to get in the shower, decided as soon as it was a decent hour he’d ring the Children’s Center and arrange to see Daniel.

~~oOo~~

In fact it was almost two days later before Jack actually made it to visit Daniel. The Center had insisted on checking Jack’s credentials before he could visit, as they explained there were many very vulnerable children at the home and their safety was the first consideration. They did agree to let Daniel know Jack was coming, but seemed uncertain as to whether he would actually understand. Jack smirked to himself. Daniel would know exactly what they were saying and hopefully would be pleased to know his new friend, Jack, would soon be paying him a visit.

He was met at the door by the familiar face of Ms Hogarth who gave him a bright smile that only faded a little when she saw he was alone. Jack didn’t really notice as he was busy taking in the shabby but clean house he was ushered into. There were two pre-teens slouched on beanbags near the window looking out onto a large yard where there was a couple of swing sets and a tatty green area surrounded by unkempt flowerbeds that seemed to have more weeds than actual flowers in them. Jack had always liked yard work and wondered if that was something he could offer to make his visits more regular. He was surprised at how his stomach swooped and fluttered in anticipation of seeing the little blond haired boy again. He was getting soft and sappy in his old age, something his soldiers would never have believed of their hard-assed colonel.

“Jack!”

He turned just in time to prevent forty pounds of blond haired whirlwind from slamming decisively into his privates. Moving on instinct he snatched up the little body and found himself wrapped in a hug so tight he could barely breathe. Daniel’s arms were wound around his neck and his legs around his waist. The kid's body was trembling and Jack couldn’t get a look at him to work out if he was happy or upset, but he wasn’t about to pry him off to find out. Daniel would let go when he was ready. Jack didn’t know where this innate knowledge came from; he had no child rearing experience, but something was telling him he had to let Daniel call the shots for a while and Jack was happy to do that.  
He looked down to see Marion Hogarth gazing up at him with something akin to wonder. She shook her head in amazement. “It’s a little cold to go outside today, but perhaps you would like to go and see Daniel’s room?” 

When Daniel made no attempt to move, Jack took it to be agreement and so nodded to the social worker who led the way along several corridors and flights of stairs to a small room at the top of the house. There was only one single bed, a desk and a dresser. The window was small, but gave a great birds-eye view of the yard and the sky with the mountains in the far distance. Again the furnishings were shabby but solid and looked clean. It was the walls however that took Jack’s breath away. Rather than the bland colors that were obvious in the rest of the house, Daniel’s walls were covered in drawings. There were portraits, landscapes and studies of nature and still life. Each one was meticulously drawn in pencil or pastels and then haphazardly pinned up on the walls. The desk was littered with artist’s materials and Jack realized with some shock that Daniel was the artist. His mouth fell open as he turned to find his own face staring back at him, rendered in breathtaking accuracy that he would never have expected from such a small child.  
Jack felt a lump growing in his throat. Daniel had been with him at the airport for less than ten minutes and yet here was a portrait of him that must have taken hours of painstaking work to achieve.

“It’s all he does,” Ms Hogarth said quietly. “The psychologists are wondering if he is autistic – you know an idiot savant.” 

Jack almost burst out laughing. From the little he knew about those kinds of learning disabilities Daniel was definitely not a savant; an incredibly gifted child perhaps, but not autistic. Jack felt his anger grow as he took in how little these people knew about the child they were looking after. 

_//Daddy would have said Dr. Murray, the psychologist, got her degree out of a Christmas cracker//_ Daniel whispered into his ear and while he tried hard not to nod Jack most definitely agreed.

“Well,” Marion said with a false kind of cheeriness, “I have to get back to work. My office is on the ground floor. If you would just pop your head in to say goodbye before you leave?” She cocked her head quizzically and then smiled as Jack nodded his agreement.

When she shut the door behind her Jack felt all the tension leave Daniel’s body and the tightly wound arms around Jack’s neck loosened until Daniel could lean back and look into his face. He looked over at the portrait and back at Jack a few times before he nodded in satisfaction.

_//I got you right. Faces are hard and sometimes I forget things. But I remembered you//_

Jack had more than just a smattering of Arabic; in fact he would have been considered fluent but some of the words and inflections Daniel was using meant he had to work a little to make sure he was getting the complete gist of everything the boy said.

“Can we speak English while we’re on our own?” He asked gently and quietly. He watched a wealth of emotions pass across Daniel’s face, from a frown of irritation to what looked a little like fear and Jack felt guilty to be the one making that level of concern show on the little boy’s expression. He was about to say it didn’t matter when Daniel pulled back his shoulders and gazed directly into Jack’s eyes. He looked so brave right at that minute that Jack wanted to gather him up and take him away – where to he had no idea, but he knew he wanted to keep him safe from all the things that had made this child need to be so brave.

“OK.” Daniel's voice had a breathless quality to it that told Jack he hadn’t spoken English out loud for a long time. Jack sat down on the neatly made bed and waited for Daniel to speak again. It seemed like hours but must have been less than a minute when Daniel started talking.

“It feels like…if I speak English…if they understand me…then all this will be real.”

Jack nodded, still feeling he should wait and let the little boy get out some of what he had been so obviously holding inside.

“My mommy and daddy died,” he choked out, big tears welling in his blue, blue eyes. “They were excavating a tomb in the Valley of the Kings – that’s Egypt.” He looked over at Jack who nodded and Daniel seemed pleased to find Jack knew where he meant. Sliding off Jack’s lap he made his way across the bedroom to the wall of art and carefully unpinned a charcoal drawing of the Giza pyramids.

There was a spare quality to the drawing. Not a single stroke had been wasted, but it was so evocative that Jack could almost taste the sand and feel the dry wind.

“I’ve been there,” Jack said quietly and pointed to the base of the biggest structure. “Khufu’s tomb.”

Daniel nodded, smiling broadly.

“And what does this say?” Jack pointed at a row of hieroglyphs across the top of the picture.

“The Great and Majestic Necropolis of the Millions of Years of the Pharaoh, Life, Strength, Health in the West of Thebes,” Daniel quoted and Jack had the feeling he was repeating words he had heard many times before. “It’s the real name for the Valley of the Kings.”

“So your mom and dad were…?”

“Archaeologists,” Daniel said quietly. “They were archaeologists…” His voice broke painfully and in a matter of seconds Jack had scooped him up onto his lap and was stroking and rocking the young child as he poured out his pain and grief, sobbing long and low into Jack’s shirt, his tears leaving damp dark spots; traces of total despair, but also hopefully the beginning of a healing process. Jack knew with a certainty he had never felt about anything else in his life, besides flying, that this was where he was meant to be and his job right now was to hold on tight for Daniel when the boy was unable to do it for himself.

~~oOo~~

Every day for the next week Jack visited Daniel at the Center. Because he refused to talk to anyone else he was not in school, but Jack knew the authorities wouldn’t allow that to go on forever and sooner or later Daniel would have to be found a school placement. Jack’s greatest fear was that they would go with the stupid psychologist’s diagnosis of autism and place Daniel in a special school. He’d tried to broach the subject with Daniel, but his grief was so new and painful, he wasn’t able to let go of the safety blanket of his beloved language. So he continued to refuse to speak to anyone else but Jack and would only converse in English when no one else was close by. 

When they were alone they talked about anything and everything. Daniel told Jack about his short life; being raised on digs, spending most of his time with highly educated adults. Jack thought that must be part of the reason for Daniel’s obviously high intelligence. In return Jack spun silly stories about his childhood in Minnesota and the bits of his life as a pilot which were fit for seven year old ears. Daniel was fascinated by the dog-tags Jack was still wearing around his neck – unwilling or unable to let go of something that had been with him the major part of his adult life. Daniel made him explain what the engraving meant and sat turning them in his hands for a long time afterwards. 

Another time Jack brought his medals in their velvet boxes. He had to be careful what he told Daniel about why he’d gotten them, but the boy had been more enthralled by the fact they’d been awarded by the order of the President himself. Jack’s Silver Star and his three Purple Hearts were a source of wonder to Daniel and Jack had promised to show him the citations that went along with them one day. 

Through his conversations with Daniel and the snippets he managed to glean from Ms Hogarth and the other staff, Jack now had a clearer idea of Daniel’s story. After the accident that had killed his parents he’d been bundled up by the US consulate and taken from the only home he’d ever known. He’d ended up in Denver when his grandfather had agreed to collect him there and the authorities had placed him with the private adoption agency. Grandpa Nick, however, had soon realized that he was being asked not just to visit his grandson, but to take him on as his responsibility. Nick Ballard had turned tail back to Belize, leaving his orphaned and traumatized grandson in the hands of the state without ever having met him. 

Jack’s anger at the old man knew no bounds. Surely one look at the beautiful, talented and intelligent little boy would’ve had Dr Ballard falling head over heels in love with him. Despite his best efforts, Jack found exactly that happening to himself and he’d gone as far as searching the internet for details of how to become a foster parent. His hopes had been dashed slightly at the bias of some agencies against applications from singles and it seemed the Adoption Alliance were more stringent than most in that regard. But Jack wasn’t about to give up hope completely. He decided he would talk to Marion on his next visit and broach the subject with her. He hadn’t said anything to Daniel; he really didn’t want to raise the kid’s hopes too much before Jack had a real idea of what was involved. He was also very concerned that, if the psychologist’s diagnosis of autism was taken seriously, Daniel could be given a school placement with other children who were learning disabled. Whilst he didn’t want to take away the tiny bit of power the kid had, he’d realized that not speaking up about the level of Danny’s intelligence and language abilities could condemn him to not receiving the help and education he really needed. He was hoping he could play up his ‘connection’ with the kid in order to push the staff at the Center in the right direction.

Jack’s best laid plans were about to go astray.

“Officer O’Neill, could I have a word with you?” Marion Hogarth was standing at the doorway of the Center as he arrived.

“Marion, I was going to come to see you after my visit with Danny.” Jack explained, wanting to get to Daniel before the young boy got worried he wasn’t coming. A couple of days earlier he’d been held up at work and was nearly an hour late showing up. He’d found Daniel bundled under his comforter, sobbing, convinced that Jack had somehow died on his way to see him.

“I’ll make sure DANIEL knows you are here,” Marion said, her tone making her unhappiness at the use of his nickname. The woman seemed to have her own set of rules about how children should be raised and there was no deviation allowed. 

She stepped away towards her office and with a quiet sigh Jack followed behind. When they were both seated – Marion behind her large oak desk and Jack on a very uncomfortable chair – she steepled her hands under her chin and regarded Jack for a few moments. 

“I’m wondering, Mr. O’Neill, what your intentions are with regard to Daniel?”

Jack frowned quizzically. That was a very strange way to phrase it. Jack had a vision of himself as a spotty young suitor being quizzed by his sweetheart’s father and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing out loud. 

“Is it your intention to make an application to foster Daniel?” she continued, unaware of Jack’s contained mirth.

“That was one of the things I was going to talk to you about, Marion,” Jack replied.

The social worker sat back in her chair smiling broadly. “Well then, if you’d like to bring Mrs. O’Neill in to meet us we can get everything underway.” She turned to pull out a drawer in the filing cabinet behind her. “I’m surprised she hasn’t been along to meet Daniel yet, but of course I am aware that his connection with you is still quite new and you must have needed to make sure you would both be able to manage his particular needs.”

“Erm, Marion…” Jack tried to interrupt, but the woman was on a roll and still talking. 

“Of course as you will be taking on a child with special needs there will be ex-gratia payments available to you, at least until you decide to adopt him.” She looked up from the papers in front of her, obviously hoping for some sign of assent from Jack. 

“Ms Hogarth, I’m not married.” Jack could feel his heart sinking as the woman opposite took in the information and processed it. 

“Ah, well…alright…but you have a partner,” she queried, “A girlfriend…a…” she swallowed audibly, “…a boyfriend?” 

If Jack had not been so distressed he would have laughed hysterically at the look of distaste on the older woman’s face. Jack was, in fact, bi but had never had a long-term relationship with either gender. Special and black ops didn’t make for the best relationships. He’d seen too many of his men suffer through marriage break-ups because they couldn’t tell their partners what their missions entailed. Then, when he'd retired, he’d felt too old and jaded to seek out a relationship. He’d taken the view that if love wanted to find him it would, but he wasn’t going to go looking for it. He was still a good-looking man and could get sex if that was what he wanted, but having a significant other in his life was not a big priority.

“Neither,” he replied quietly. “I’m a single man, Ms Hogarth. I have a big house with a great yard, more money than I know what to do with and if I was accepted as a foster parent I would give up my job. It’s too dangerous and Daniel doesn’t need to lose another parent.” He spread his hands on his thighs and waited, wanting to hope but daring not to. His hunch proved to be correct and the next words from her mouth made his already painful heart break in two.

“I’m sure you would be a really good candidate somewhere else, Mr. O’Neill, but I’m afraid the Adoption Alliance has a firm policy regarding singles.” With a finality that made Jack tense with anger she tapped all the forms together to neaten the edges and then pushed them back into the desk drawer.

“So you would rather that poor little boy be branded psychologically damaged and live a life bouncing from one temporary ‘special’ placement to another, than to let him be with someone who can love him and care for him long term?” Jack could hear the anger in his voice and wasn’t too disturbed to see Marion pale slightly. “In what Universe is that a caring attitude?”

“Our sole purpose is to make sure children are placed in safe, happy homes where they will be nurtured and allowed to grow into their full potential,” the social worker was almost sermonizing, her eyes a little zealous. “Admittedly a child like Daniel will have fewer opportunities than most, but…”  
Jack erupted with anger.

“You have no IDEA what that kid is capable of. Not one of you has taken the time to just sit and wait for him to tell you what’s on his mind and in his heart.” Jack stood in a rush and began to pace the short distance in front of the desk. “He saw his parents crushed to death under tons of rock and then was whisked from the only place he’d ever known and to a country he’d never visited where he knew NO ONE. Is it any wonder he doesn't want to talk to you?” Jack slapped his hands down on the desk and leaned in, too upset to care how the woman would perceive it.

“Did you ever think to tell the people you found as translators what had happened to him? Did you tell them that he was speaking Egyptian Arabic? Were any of them trained in dealing with traumatized children?” Jack stood up straight and scrubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. 

From somewhere Marion found the guts to stand up and face Jack’s accusations, but she was unwilling to agree. “I’ll thank you not to question the ability of myself or the other professionals at this Center to do their jobs, Mr. O’Neill. You have no qualifications in this field.” Her face was ruddy and there was a slight tremor in her voice. “I think it will be in Daniel’s best interests if you don’t visit again. He is refusing to communicate with anyone and even the minor inroads you have made with him will not help us to find him a permanent home.” 

She swept a hand towards the door and Jack realized that this short, fat woman with all her bigotry and misplaced ideals still held all the power as far as Daniel was concerned and in one fell swoop he had not only disrespected her as a professional, but he’d taken away any chance he might have had of persuading her that letting him carry on seeing Daniel was of benefit to the boy.

“Please, Marion,” he tried his best smile on her, “I’m sorry if I was rude, but you have to see that I’ve come to care for Daniel a great deal. I’m not sure how he’ll cope if another person is taken away from him…”

“That’s another good reason for stopping this right now, Officer O’Neill. After just a week Daniel will soon forget you, given his learning disability, but much longer and it will be more difficult for him to make the adjustment once we find him a special foster placement.” She shook her head in such a condescending way that Jack wanted to punch a woman for the first time in his life. “I’m sure you feel sorry for him, but Daniel needs far more than a single man could ever offer.”

She took a step towards the door and Jack realized she wasn’t going to listen to anything he had to say. The only thing he could do now was make sure Daniel realized it was nothing he’d done that meant Jack couldn’t visit again. 

“Ms Hogarth,” he said quietly and as sincerely as he knew how when faced with such intransigence, “Can I be the one to tell Daniel. Please let me say goodbye.”

For a moment he thought she was going to say no, that he would have to rampage through the house and **make** them let him say goodbye to Daniel, but finally she nodded curtly and let him go past her into the hallway.

Jack took the stairs two at a time, not willing to waste a second of the time left with the little boy who had come to mean the world to him. He burst through the door and saw Daniel sitting on the bed, his eyes red and puffy, and realized this clever kid had already worked out what was going on.

“Danny?”

“I heard Dr. Murray and one of the Center workers talking in the hallway. They said you were with Marion and I thought…I hoped… but they won’t let you foster me, will they?”  
Jack shook his head sadly and fisted his hands on his thighs. He hadn’t cried since he was a kid but he was as close as he’d ever been right at that minute. He cleared his throat, needing to get all the bitter words out before they poisoned him. “And I’m not allowed to come and see you anymore either.” 

The spasm of grief that ripped across Daniel’s face made Jack wish – for just a nano-second – that they had never met. He would never wish to put this child through any more pain. But then he realized he’d been truly happy over the last few days and he hoped that Daniel had found a little peace too. 

_//I’ll run away. I could find you.//_

Jack could see the determination in the child’s eyes and knew he had to nip that idea in the bud. He slid Daniel onto his lap and took the boy’s small hand in his. “You must promise me…PROMISE me, Daniel, that you won’t do that. You are just a little boy and there are a lot of dangerous things out there. I would be so very sad if anything happened to you.”

With a deep sigh Daniel nodded and then rested his head on Jack’s chest, a sob creeping out as he cuddled up close. Jack twined his arms around his small back and poured as much of his love into the hug as he could. 

They sat that way for a long time, neither of them saying anything, just soaking in the feel and the smell of each other. Finally, it was Daniel who moved away and Jack was in awe of the bravery of the seven year old who could break the tie when he was unable to find the strength.

Daniel walked slowly across his room to the wall of art and pulled down a new picture that Jack had not seen before. It was a self-portrait done in the ink and watercolors Jack had bought him only two days before. The artist in Daniel had mastered the new medium perfectly and had managed to distill the very essence of who he was. 

“This is me after you came to see me last time,” he explained. “I was happy.” 

Jack clenched his teeth to hold in the sob of pain that was beating on his chest to get out. He took the painting and held it to his heart, not trusting himself to speak.

“Please don’t forget me.” Daniel whispered, as two large tears rolled down his pale cheeks and splashed onto Jack’s jeans.

“Never,” Jack promised hoarsely. Then, without thinking, he reached inside his shirt and pulled out his tags, slipping them off quickly. Removing his Swiss Army knife from his jeans pocket he made an adjustment to the chain and then hooked them over Daniel’s blond head. They hung perfectly in the center of his chest and Jack patted them gently.  
“Take care of them for me and one day…” Jack’s voice broke and he looked away. He felt the soft slender fingers of Daniel’s hand as they slipped into his and he cursed himself for not being stronger. “…one day we WILL see each other again, perhaps when you are bigger, and you can let me have them back.” 

Daniel nodded solemnly. “The president won’t mind?” he asked seriously.

Jack shook his head. “No, the president won’t mind,” he agreed. “Perhaps you’ll be a famous artist by then and I can come and look at your pictures in the big galleries.”

“I don’t think I’ll be an artist, Jack. I want to be a linguist like my mom. I already speak seven languages fluently.”

Jack smiled proudly, “I didn’t know that.”

Daniel smiled back, and Jack was once again taken aback by the old, almost ancient look in his crystal blue eyes. “One day, you’ll know everything about me.”

“Yes,” Jack agreed, determined to ensure that was the case. “One day we’ll know everything about each other.”

Too soon there was a tap on the door and Marion was telling Jack it was time to go. He nodded at her and was surprised and not a little grateful when she closed the door again, giving them a few seconds more privacy. Jack watched uselessly as Daniel fought his emotions and finally won through, forcing a wan smile that didn’t even try to reach his eyes. Even in the face of such emotional upheaval the kid was trying his best to put on a brave face.

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too, Daniel,” Jack choked out. He wanted to reach out, to pull the kid into his arms and never let go but he knew it would be cruel to both of them. He forced himself to smile back and forced out the blessing that had marked their parting in the airport only a few short days before. “Assalamu Alaikom warahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu.”

The love in Daniel’s eyes cut through his heart like a knife and he almost ran out of the room, but forced himself to stand slowly and listen as Daniel replied, “Assalamu Alaikom warahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu, Jack. Goodbye.”

~~oOo~~

Jack didn’t remember the drive home or the phone call to the precinct to ask for some leave, citing a family problem, which was granted without a murmur from the Chief. He didn’t even remember that he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Marion about Daniel’s secret. It wasn’t until he was half way to his cabin in Minnesota that he finally let himself remember the look on Daniel’s face as he’d left the room. Pain and sorrow and anger all welled up behind his eyes, but Jack refused to let them out, using the familiar monotony of the drive across the states to shore up his defenses. He drove the whole way with less than three hours break for sleep which he only took because he found himself drifting across lanes on the highway. Even in his emotional state Jack couldn’t allow himself to risk hurting or killing someone else just because he desperately needed to get home.

The next four days were a blur of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. Long, heart-pounding dreams of Daniel lost and hurt mixed with the usual suspects in his sleeping psyche and he often woke more tired than refreshed. He tried to fish, but found no pleasure in the long quiet hours and so he drank more until there was nothing alcoholic left in the cabin. This coincided with him having to head back to Denver, so he counted that as a win in a week filled with the most painful of losses. 

He’d left his return journey to the last minute and so found himself rolling into Denver an hour before his next shift was due to start. He’d already decided- in the early hours between one nightmare of Daniel with a gunshot wound and another of him on a wide, sandy plain always too far away, no matter how hard and fast Jack ran – that he would retire again and take himself up to the cabin for good. He wanted to keep his promise to Daniel; to find a way to see each other again, but he was too heartsick to even fathom how it would be possible. The kid could already be miles away, even across the state and Jack would never know. He’d asked Marion if he could stay in contact but her answer had been an unequivocal ‘no’ so there was no way of keeping track, even though his heart and mind were still at the little boy’s side. He’d decided to write to the Center and let them know the truth about the kid’s intelligence and language abilities. He only hoped Daniel would be able to forgive him and would one day realize that Jack had only been trying to do the best for him.

He walked into the precinct knowing he looked as bad as he felt. He’d managed to get home for a very quick shower and shave but he hadn’t eaten for two days. He knew he should be glad the long drive had dried the alcohol out of his system before he had to meet with the Chief, but he couldn’t find it in him to care and hoped once he’d spoken to his boss he’d be able to take the rest of the leave he was due and work out his notice that way. 

He turned the corner to enter Chief Copeland’s office to be greeted by the sight of a three-star general sitting where his boss usually sat. His long career in the military took over and he found himself standing smartly to attention before he’d even realized he’d entered the room. The general grinned back at him and Jack decided straight away he liked this officer whose name tag, under an impressive rack of medals, read ‘Hammond’.

“At ease, son.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Well, I think this must be serendipity,” the older man said. “Because I’ve been sitting here waiting for your CO to find you.”

“I’ve just come back from some personal time, sir,” Jack explained, concerned that this senior officer would be able to tell how Jack had spent that time. 

“I understand you know a young man called Daniel Jackson…”

The general was up on his feet in an instant as Jack swayed. His stomach was in his throat and he felt light headed and hot. “Here, take a load off and calm down.” The officer pushed him into a chair, but kept a calming hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“What happened,” Jack asked, still panicking. “Did he run away? Is he sick? Hurt?”

The general patted his shoulder kindly and shook his head. “No, No, Colonel. He’s fine. Better than fine in fact.” Hammond gave another wry grin. “I understand you and he got to know one another a little bit.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack couldn’t help the broad smile that lit his face as he thought about the bright, funny, brave little boy he loved so much. “He’s an orphan, lost his parents in…”

“In Eygpt, yes. I understand you were interested in fostering him, but the Agency was unable to accept your application.” The general sat back down behind the desk and waited.

“I’m single and they don’t accept applications from people who aren't in a long term relationship.” Jack sighed. “They don’t realize…” He looked over at the general and saw the man assessing him, shrewdly. “They think he’s autistic; that he’s an idiot savant – he can draw like Michelangelo,” Jack clarified more than a little proudly, “and he’s only seven. But he’s not. He’s just a frightened, traumatized little boy who feels lost and alone.”

As Jack was talking Hammond drew a thick envelope from an attaché case on the desk and pushed it over towards Jack. With hands that trembled a little from excess adrenaline, Jack lifted the package onto his lap and opened the flap. Inside sat a folded letter and a painting. He recognized the style and the subject immediately and looked up at the general in surprise. “Sir?”

“I suggest you read the letter, Colonel, and then perhaps you’ll have some of the answers.”  
Jack flipped open the folded sheet and began to read.

_Alliance Group Home_  
477 East Fourth Street  
Denver  
Colorado 

_Dear Mr. President_

_My name is Daniel Alexander Nicholas Jackson and I am a citizen of the United States. I was not born here, but my parents were both American. I lived in Egypt from when I was born until my parents (who were archaeologists) were killed in an accident on a dig in Giza and then I was sent back to America by the consulate. I have a grandfather, Dr Nicholas Ballard, who is a very famous archaeologist currently working in Belize. He has been told that I am alone here in Denver but has decided not to take responsibility for me. I am not unhappy about that as I do not know him and have never met him. My mother, his daughter, didn't like him and said he was a pompous ass so I think you will agree he wouldn't be the best person to look after a kid. I'm seven and very intelligent but am small for my age and I am often underestimated because of that._

_Recently I met a police officer called Jack O’Neill. He was patrolling at Denver International Airport and was kind to me when I thought I would never have a friend again. He took the time to talk to me and get to know me and I think he got to like me as much as I like him. He visited me at the group home where I'm currently living but after a short time he was told he could not foster me because he doesn't have a wife and that the safety of foster children is the Agencies foremost concern._

_This seems very stupid to me. Jack is a brave man. He has lots of medals that you gave him for being brave - a Silver Star and three Purple Hearts – so I’m sure you will agree he would make anyone feel safe._

_He gave me his dog tags to take care of and he said you wouldn’t mind. In case you have forgotten what he looks like I have enclosed a portrait I painted of him from memory. It might be a little bit wrong as faces are quite difficult and also I think he is older now than when you last saw him._

_This is the information on his tags:_

_O’Neill. Jonathon_  
687 – 12 – 0432 – AF  
A RH Positive  
Catholic 

_He was a Colonel and a pilot in the Air Force until he got shot down and had to retire. Now he is a Police Officer at the 3rd Precinct in Denver. He is strong and brave and I love him very much._

_The pamphlets from the Adoption Alliance say that only couples can be foster parents for kids like me because they have the necessary skills to parent difficult children. Firstly I think this is stupid because my dad always said that all anyone had to do was try their best and study hard and then they would be able to achieve anything. I think if Jack was able to learn how to be a brave pilot then it would be easy for him to learn how to look after me. Secondly, I'm not a difficult child. I am sad and lonely and sometimes a little bit angry but I felt better when I had Jack to visit me and the possibility that we might one day get to live together as a family._

_So please, Mr. President, could you talk to my Case Worker, Ms Marion Hogarth and tell her how much I would like Jack to be my new daddy. He will never take the place of my parents, but I don’t think he would want to and if he was given the chance I think he would do a really good job. For my part I would promise to be good, to work hard at school and to do my best. I would also honor my promise to Jack not to compare Ms Hogarth to a camel’s ass as I agree it really is unfair to camels._

_Yours faithfully_

_Daniel Jackson._

 

Jack didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His eyes were wide as he looked at the portrait that Daniel had enclosed with the letter. It showed him dressed as he’d been that last day and looking just as sad and solemn as he’d felt. Not only had Daniel captured his likeness but his mood, too. He really was a phenomenal artist at any age but particularly at only seven years old.

Jack looked over at the general who was smirking back at him. “How far did this get, sir?” he asked, concern warring with pride for the love that shone from every word Daniel had written.

“Oh, all the way, Colonel. Right to the desk of the POTUS himself.”

Jack slapped a hand across his face. “Crap! How much trouble am I in?”

“Well,” the older man drawled and then laughed out loud at Jack’s expression, “you have nothing at all to worry about, Jack. The President thought the whole thing was great and he was very impressed with the bit about the camel’s ass, laughed himself silly over it in fact.”

Jack didn’t know whether to allow his hysteria to bubble up or to be sick, either way he still wasn’t sure what it all meant.

Finally General Hammond took pity on him. He got up and walked around the desk to once more place a calming hand on Jack’s shoulder. “There's a question I need to ask you, Colonel.” He cocked an eyebrow at the astonished man in front of him and waited until he nodded jerkily. “If you had been able to foster that boy, what would you have done about your job here? Being a cop is a dangerous life.”

Jack nodded. “I’d already decided to retire – again,” he said wryly. “Daniel is hyper-intelligent and very talented, but he’s also just a little kid who’s lost his parents and needs to be loved.” Once again Jack felt the sadness and loss that came every time he thought of Daniel and knew it would never be as overwhelming as Daniel’s own grief.

“And if there was a job that would use all your talents, but would be safe and get you home every night?” the general asked.

“Sir, with the greatest respect, there's no point in speculating. I’m sorry that Daniel felt the need to involve the president.” He smiled sheepishly. “I have to take the blame for that, I’m afraid. Although I never said I’d met the president or that he’d presented my medals personally, I also didn’t make it clear to Daniel that the CiC doesn’t know about everyone who gets a medal, no matter what the citation says.” Jack folded Daniel’s letter and pushed it back into the envelope with the portrait. “If there‘s anything I can do to apologize…” Jack looked over at the three-star general and was surprised by the warm smile the older man was directing his way. Jack had always had pretty decent COs but he could imagine this man would go the extra mile for any soldier under his command.

“I’ve only just met you, Jack O’Neill, but I think Daniel has it right. You’re a brave and good man and your record speaks to that. You should also know that the president will be meeting you quite soon – he insisted on it, along with your new foster son…that is if that is still what you want.”

Jack’s heart began to hammer in his chest as he processed what the general had just said. “I can…we can…we are?” he stuttered, his brain still not in step with the massive shift going on around him.

“Yes, Colonel, you can. And there is still the matter of that job I was talking about. I’m overseeing a new project out of Cheyenne Mountain which up until now has had military oversight. The IOA has just negotiated an agreement with the president for a civilian lead and both he and I believe a retired Special ops colonel could be just the man for the job. In fact you come highly recommended. I believe you know the CO of my premier team, Lieutenant Colonel Louis Ferreti.”

Jack could only sit there open mouthed. “Lou Ferre…Lieutenant Col… Sir, did you just offer me a job at NORAD? I know nothing about Deep Space Telemetry.” Jack was rapidly losing track. Everything had been turned upside down. He was being offered something he never thought he could have, commanding a man he never thought he’d see again and all he could think about was going to get Daniel from that place and taking him home.

“How soon, General?” he asked urgently.

“How soon can you start the job?” Hammond asked.

“No, sir. How soon can I go and pick up my boy.” Jack could feel his body getting ready for action; a skill he had honed over many years in combat. He needed to be moving, making something – anything happen, because if it didn’t he was going to jump out of his skin.

“Well, about that,” the general drawled and then nodded over Jack’s shoulder.

Jack turned to look out through the glass covering half the door and into the corridor. There at the end, dressed in jeans, sneakers and a check button down shirt, was Daniel. Jack was up and out of the door in one swift movement and Daniel was already running down the hallway as fast as his little legs would carry him, straight into Jack’s arms.  
Jack found his legs would no longer hold him and he sank to his knees, still holding on as tightly as he could to the little body trembling in his arms.

“I wrote to the president and asked him to help us. Was that all right?” Daniel whispered into Jack’s ear.

“You did good, buddy.” Jack breathed back; sure at any moment something would happen to make this all go away. Instead General Hammond put a strong hand under his elbow and encouraged him to stand, still clutching Daniel to him. Together they walked back into the Chief’s office and retook their seats. As he settled back into the chair Daniel looked shyly over at General Hammond.

“Hello, Lieutenant General Hammond.”

Jack was surprised to hear Daniel speaking English to another adult and realized it spoke of the trust Daniel felt in the general.

“Hello, Daniel.” The general replied gently. “I know my assistant has told you what we’d like to happen and I don’t think I need to ask whether you want Jack to be your foster father, do I?”

Daniel grinned back at the man. “No, sir. I want it very much if…” He faltered slightly and looked back at Jack, blue eyes searching his face, “…if Jack still wants me.”

Jack could hardly breathe for the force of emotion that welled up in his chest. He loved this kid and now he was going to be a father. He wasn’t sure if Daniel was right when he said he was brave – he couldn’t ever remember being more terrified. But the look of hope and trust on his little boy’s face was enough to make him face anything life had to throw at them. “Yes, Daniel. I want to be your daddy more than anything.”

Daniel flung his arms around Jack’s neck and held on tightly for a moment or two. When he let go he looked at Jack once more and then moved in, planting kisses on his eyes and cheeks and it took a moment for Jack to realize he was kissing away tears Jack hadn’t even known he was shedding. 

Trying desperately to get back his emotional equilibrium, Jack allowed himself to look at Daniel properly, taking in the slightly paler skin and dark rings around his eyes. The separation had been hard on both of them, but it was over now. 

Finally he noticed that Daniel was holding tightly to a rolled sheet of paper which, surprisingly, had survived been crushed in all their hugs.

“What’s that, Danny? Another painting?” 

Daniel nodded shyly. He pulled off the rubber band that was holding it closed and allowed it to unroll on the desk. There, in pastels, was a drawing of a man and woman, obviously deeply engrossed in looking at a sheet of paper stretched between them. 

“My mom and dad,” Daniel explained. “I don’t have anything of theirs; no photographs or anything.” He glanced at Jack uncertainly. “I didn’t want to forget what they looked like so I painted them while I could still see them in my mind. I never want to forget them, Jack.”

Jack smiled reassuringly. “We’ll find a frame for this and you can put it in your room. Then they’ll always be there for you to remember.”

Finally Daniel smiled the brilliant smile that had captivated Jack only two weeks before and once again it was like the sun breaking through, lifting Jack’s spirits to unbelievable heights.

“Can we go home now, Jack?” Daniel looked over at the general who nodded, his grin almost as big as Jack’s.

Jack knew there were lots of things to do; many issues to face and difficult decisions to make. He was probably going to have a new job, which would mean a new house and another shift in what his life was going to become. On top of that, the very pinnacle would be his new role as father to a seven year old with prodigious talent, scary intellect and the mouth of a guttersnipe. 

It was going to be wonderful.

“Yes, Danny. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anne and I got to talking about the route the letter would have gone to get to the President's desk and we'd like to throw open the offer to play in our sandbox. I'm going to write a Tag from the Presidents POV and another author has written from Hammonds viewpoint which I will link to this story. But who else saw it? Someone in the post room, a secretary, an Aide? We'd love to hear your take on it. Just link it to this story or mark as a Tag and perhaps comment here to let us know. :D


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